


Careful, Children

by Dark_Rabbit



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: Dancing flowers, Delirium, Explosion, Gen, Genderfluid Alex Fierro, Hallucinations, Harry Needs a Hug, Harry is not okay, Harry is trying, Hurt Magnus, I don't know if I remember the story very well, I probably have details wrong, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Max is alone, Nightmares, Other, Poor Max, Sad Max (Camp Camp), Scary, Shapeshifting Alex, The Chase Space, The writer is dying, Thunderstorms, Tired Harry Potter, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, You Know What Happened, i hate this, magnus chase - Freeform, there's going to be a lot of tags, this was a bad idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-23 06:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Rabbit/pseuds/Dark_Rabbit
Summary: Whumptober 2019 prompts!





	1. The Thunderstorm

**Author's Note:**

> Max has a nightmare. Alternative prompt: Nightmare

No matter how old he gets, the storms always terrify him. It isn’t just the thunder, it’s the lightning when it lights up the sky. It’s the sounds that accompany it that drown out his sense of the world. It doesn’t matter what he does, he’ll still hear the thunder crack, he’ll still see the flash. He hates storms, he fucking  _ hates _ them. He can’t think when they happen, and they make him feel so… Helpless. 

When he hears the first rumble, he freezes and watches as the lights flicker in horror. His eyes widen as he searches the room, looking for somewhere to hide. When thunder strikes again he can feel his body begin to shut down. Without a plan, he takes off to his room, running as fast as he can. 

He can’t get there fast enough, a feeling of dread urging him to go faster, nearly colliding with the door when he finally reaches it. Max darts into his room, nearly tripping over nothing and flinging himself under his blanket, hoping, praying that it will bring some sort of relief. 

He can hear voices traveling down the hallway towards his room. They’re angry, they’re shouting, and they’re mingling with the sounds of the storm. Outside, he can hear scratches on his window, long, deep scratches. He thinks it might just be the storm, or he hopes it is. 

When the voices reach his door they stop, and whispers start, emerging from the window almost like it’s slithering through. 

_ “Max, we won’t hurt you, we  _ ** _promise_ ** _ .”  _

_ “Maaaax, let us _ ** _ innn_ ** _ .” _

The whispers promise so much, that if he’ll just open the window, it’ll all stop. 

_ “It’ll be over soon.” _

It’s like a nail on a chalkboard, and it’s slow, constant. The voice is high pitched and broken.

The yelling from the door continues once more. All the people he can’t make himself call friends or family. 

_ “GROW UP YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!” _

Max can’t breathe, he can’t hear it again. 

He opens his eyes from under the blanket, and he can’t see anything until lightning fills the room, and then all he can see is a shadow at the window. 

_ “I’m going to fucking  _ ** _kill you_ ** _ .” _ It’s from his door, it’s not yelling, but it’s harsh. He has definitely heard it before, and many times. 

_ “What have you done, Max?” _ It’s his mother. She’s sad, crying. She hates him. 

“ _ You don’t  _ ** _deserve_ ** _ -” _

The window shatters, and he can’t hear what was being said anymore. His body is flung against the wall and he can feel the glass pierce his skin. The blanket is gone, so he can nearly see the creature when he lifts his head. 

He looks, and he can’t move, as it lowers its scarred face, and reaches out with a branch for an arm－ 

He can’t fucking breathe, his limbs are tangled, he’s sobbing, and he can’t make himself stop. He can feel his chest heaving, and he’s drenched in sweat. He can hear the rain outside his tent. He can feel, but he can’t think, he can’t _ stop _ . It doesn’t matter that it isn’t the first time he has had that dream, that nightmare. 

He wants David, or some other camp counselor, but he knows that if he bothered them that they wouldn’t care. They wouldn’t do it for  _ him _ . He knows that it would be so nice to hear them, to see another person, but it doesn’t matter. He’s Max, the troublemaker, and he doesn’t deserve it anyway. When he hears the thunder, this time it’s  **real** , and he knows he’ll never get back to sleep. 

He grabs his bear and buries his face into its fur, just like every other time. It’ll be over eventually, he tells himself, as more tears stream down his face. He’s scared, he’s so fucking scared. 


	2. Crumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fierrochase, and Magnus gets hurt. :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is Whumptober 2019 prompt 2: Explosion  
Posted a bit late though, heh.

“_MAGNUS!”_ Alex screams, his voice shrill, and goes until it ends in barely a whisper. His throat aches. 

The building had collapsed. 

The building _collapsed_. With Magnus inside. 

It didn’t seem real. They had been hunted by gods and monsters alike, and none had managed this kind of damage before. Even after dying over and over, death hadn’t seemed this close. Dumb, stupid, savage, homophobic _people_. They had caused the explosion, they were _monsters_. He becomes a dog, sniffing out where Magnus could be laying injured, maybe even dead. He follows the scent of fresh blood. 

He has to lift the rubble, and he knows he’ll be useless even with his einherji strength. He can’t panic, _he can’t panic_. He doesn’t know any spells for this. He shifts into large gorilla, needing a stronger and much larger form for this. He takes no time in digging through the wreckage. Soon he hears something, like someone, or something, yelling. 

“Señor!” It was from Jack. Magnus must have taken him out of pendant form before the building fell.

After a moment he can see the remains shift, rock and wood falling. The sword of summer launches himself out of the pile looking completely unscathed. 

Together, they lift the rubble, being careful of where they know Magnus is buried. With how fast Alex is going, it takes only a few minutes for them to reach him. 

_“Maggie!’_ Alex holds back a sob at seeing the body that is laying there. He is horrified, he is relieved, he is scared. 

There’s blood everywhere, and Magnus doesn’t even look alive. His shirt is ripped and Alex can see that his bones are not right. Alex can even see a rib poking out, dark red blood oozing from the wounds on his chest, and everywhere. His legs are crushed, and it is the source of most of the blood. There are see cuts and gashes all over the body and it’s terribly bruised. 

The mangled body in front of him is glowing faintly, so Alex can see that he’s at least alive if only barely. If Magnus died here, there’d be no resurrection, no reviving and he’d be gone forever. Alex would never see his radiating smile ever again. He would never hear his terrible puns. He’d never hold Magnus ever again.

Carefully, he lifts the broken body and begins running at full speed to the gate between the nine worlds. The duck statues weren’t supposed to be too far. He doesn’t attempt to put Jack back in pendant form, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, in case the strain kills Magnus from the effort it must have taken for Jack to help save him. 

Now that he’s running and he can’t stop, because if he stops Magnus will die. His increased stamina helps, but his lungs burn, and he doesn’t think he has ever gone so fast in his life, yet moving so slowly. Time is going by too quickly. It shouldn’t be taking this long. The statues shouldn’t be so far. He can’t determine how long it takes for him to get to the portal, but it takes an excruciating amount of time. He has probably beaten some sort of world record at this point. 

Magnus stirs in his arms just he sprints into the hotel lobby. Alex becomes human once again back and he’s completely exhausted. He gently lays Magnus on a lobby sofa. 

Magnus looks like he’s trying to move, to say something, but he can’t quite open his eyes.

“Alex?” he’s struggling, Alex is surprised that he managed that. 

“Y-yeah, Maggie?” Alex is at his breaking point. He can’t keep it together, even if Magnus is technically safe here, but he can’t get the idea of never seeing him again out of his head. 

“I－” Magnus begins coughing, and there’s so much blood. He hasn’t stopped glowing, but Alex can tell he is nowhere near healed. Hardly even alive. 

He can hear Magnus struggle to breathe, blood dripping from his mouth. He can hear gurgling and more coughing. Alex has witnessed things like this before, but he has never been so close to truly losing someone he cared about, especially not Magnus. 

He shouldn’t be so upset by it, but he is. He watches helplessly as the choking stops and Magnus stills 

—

“Oh, hey Maggie. Finally awake.” She looks at him with a playful smile, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. 

“H-hey, Alex.” Magnus looks confused for just a moment as his memories don’t make any sense. He must’ve died, right? But weren’t they working together at the Chase Space? 

“What happened?” 

Alex doesn’t know how to answer that. How does she tell him that the place they had been working on for so long was now destroyed? And did she even tell him that he nearly died? 

“It… It was destroyed, Magnus. I- I don’t…” she can’t finish her sentence. Thinking back all she can imagine is her standing just at the statues, Magnus choking, blood covering them both. She’s just outside the gate. She knows that if she had been any slower he would’ve died. He would have DIED. For such a stupid reason. 

Alex can see the look of comprehension dawn on Magnus’s face, as he recalls memories from the previous day. Magnus clenches his jaw. 

“I can’t believe that they’d do that… We’ll- we’ll rebuild it. We will… And… “ he pauses, his face falling and his voice becomes strained, “How could they be so heartless? So _cruel_?” He knew how, he knew, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to imagine the thoughts, the meanings, the intentions. 

As he stands he can’t help but admire the person in front of him; he realizes what she must have done to save him. The strength and will she must have had. 

“Thank you, Alex.” 

She smiles mischievously, a sadistic tinge to her voice, “As if I’d let you die. You’re my favorite person to kill.”

Magnus smiles at her, relieved, and hugs her. He never wants to let go. “I love you,” he whispers, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. She does the same.

Apparently miffed about being ignored, Jack flies from where he had been laid on the table. 

“You’re alive, señor!” Jack either wasn’t thinking, or really didn’t care, as he once again becomes the pendant on Magnus’s neck. 

As Magnus goes limp in her arms, his eyes rolling back, Alex whispers to him, “I love you too, Maggie.”


	3. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has an eventful time in the garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I wrote this.

Continue on the garden or die, he tells himself. He’ll cut himself from being clumsy, or he’ll fall, or he’ll have a hard time breathing, but he’ll still tell himself it. He can hardly stand, but he isn’t going to give up. He wonders if he’ll die even if he does continue, it certainly feels like it. **  
**

The sun hasn’t been very kind to him, and he can feel the sun slowly worsening his burns throughout the day as he completes his chores. 

He notices the grass looks unusually green today, but he isn’t concerned. The sky doesn’t even look blue anymore, but he has witnessed more unusual things before. The world looks red and black, but it has been.. Worse. 

The tools are heavy and he can hardly lift them. His shirt clings to him from the sweat. He’s starving, he’s thirsty, and he feels far away like he’s drifting on clouds. The world is becoming fuzzy and undefined, but he has learned not to pay it any mind. He talks to the flowers, voice scratchy. 

_“Hi, Harry!”_ they say back to him, cheerfully. He smiles at them, happy to have something to talk to. To keep him going. 

He continues digging and telling the flowers things, they are rather good listeners. They talk back too, sometimes. 

_“Tell us more, Harry.”_ He’ll gladly oblige. 

The world continues to tilt and he can’t focus to save his life, but he continues, and he needs this. He needs the flowers. 

_“You’re so nice to us, Harry!” _

There’s always those few who tell him other things. _“Kill yourself, Harry.”_

“_You’re such a freak.”_

_“They hate you, **we** hate you.” _

But the good ones… _“You shouldn’t put up with this, Harry.”_

_“You’re wonderful. You shouldn’t listen to** them**.”_

_“You’re worth more.”_

The plants, especially the flowers, dance and sing. The pinks, purples, greens, and blues mingling together. They laugh, they play, they tell him wonderful and terrible things. He honestly doesn’t mind, or even question, the events. It happens every year. Every year he has to work through it, the heat, the pain, the exhaustion. 

He smiles at them when it’s time to go back, and they all jump back into their holes, keeping their abilities secret. The plants wave to him and wish him good things. They express their hopes to see him later. Some say other things, but he chooses to ignore those. Or he tries to. 

He knows he’s worthless, he doesn’t need plants to tell him that. Maybe one day he should stop and see if Vernon would go through with his threats, and he might one day.


End file.
